Together, We Cry
by sydneysages
Summary: Amelie's POV of Sam's funeral. Depressing. Beta'd by spritesinger!


**Oneshot!**

**I don't own anything!**

**I know that some people have done this before, but it was a really depressing thing, so I thought I would do my own take on it!**

**Sam's funeral, guys!**

**Thanks to spritesinger for betaing it! **

**It's POV'd as well **

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><p><em>I'm sick of looking for those heroes in the sky<em>  
><em>To teach us how to fly<em>  
><em>Together we cry, we cry<em>

_There is so much sad gonna flood the ocean_  
><em>We're all in tears for a world that's broken<em>  
><em>Together we cry.<em>

_We cry – The Script 3 (__**I wanted to make this a song fic, but because the lyrics aren't much to the point, besides those ones, I decided it was pointless**__)_

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><p><em><strong>Amelie's POV:<strong>_

Why did he have to die? Why did he have to _give up his life_ for me, for this town, for everyone in it? Why did he have to be a martyr? Wouldn't it have been enough for him to show just how much everyone means to him, _meant_ to him since he is dead, by something _other_ than death?

Why did I _let_ him take the poison with us? I knew that there would be a chance that he would die, so why did I risk him?

Nobody can tell just how much of a mess I am in, because I seem perfect. This morning, I spent _hours_ brushing my hair so that it would be shiny and blonde, loose about my shoulders because that was how Sam preferred it. I spent hours choosing what to wear because… because I didn't want the last time that he sees me to be a woman who wasn't perfect. I want him, even though he is no longer here, to only see the strong woman I am, the one with the perfect make up and steady expression, rather than a mess.

If he remembered me like that, then that would be worse. That would be worse than how I have to remember him; dying in my arms slowly, living on borrowed time as the lack of blood killed him, his perfect face slowly dying. I have to remember how his eyes drifted shut, full of love for me and absolutely _no_ concern for himself. I have to remember his dead body, his utter lack of motion, the way he left me _forever_…

How will I cope?

People begin to file into the church, most notably Oliver although he stays away from me. He knows better than to cross me now, as a grieving woman can be _very_ unforgiving.

I sit in my pew at the front of the church, knowing that this is my right to sit here, even though his family is already coming in – it seems strange to remember that Sam still had a living family. He and Michael are the only ones of our kind who have that and that is because they are of the same bloodline…I suppose I ought to say something to them, but what do I say? Sorry that Sam died because he was saving me? I should have died and not him? No matter what I say, it won't make a morsel of difference – they will still hate me and still partially hate Sam for him being a vampire. Yet he is dying at approximately the age he would have died at if he were still human and had never fallen in love with me…

… I bet he never expected that.

The church is crammed full, people having to stand to be able to pay their respects – I suppose that his making friends with everyone paid off because nearly the entire town is here. He was loved, more than people would ever admit, and even his son loved him, if the sound of tears behind me is anything to go by.

I hate myself. If I had only told him how I felt, how I still feel, before he died then we could have been happy, we could have found a different route to get rid of my father than what we did.

He wouldn't have died.

I need him to live on. I need to find a way to be able to say that he didn't die in vain; I need to find a way which will have him _always_ on my mind, even though he is dead. I deserve to suffer his death every single day of the eternity I will live; for it is my doing he is dead. But what can I do? There is only one thing that I can think of, so therefore that is what shall have to happen. I shall give Sam what he wanted for every second he was alive, but only achieved through his death. How ironic that is – he wanted freedom for humans when he was alive but only got what he wanted because he died.

Why does God have to play with me? He could have taken me, Myrnin, Oliver, Claire… _anyone_, but he chose the one person who didn't have to die! He chose the one _truly_ pure person in this entire town, the person who did everything he could for this town to be peaceful. But he was the one who died… he was the _one_ person on our side who perished… how unjust is that?

The vicar is talking, probably saying how popular Sam was, but I don't listen. All I can think of is seeing him again, for the last time. All I can think of is how his skin was so pale and perfect, how his eyes sparkled when he laughed, how he was such a gentleman but born in the wrong age for this to be appreciated.

I can only think of how much I love him.

When it comes to the time, I wipe the falling tears from my eyes and compose myself as much as possible, having not realised that my control had slipped. I need to make sure I am strong for Sam, so he sees me perfectly for the last time…

I turn and address the full audience, every single person with tears in their eyes at the very least. I tell them of the changes to Morganville, the changes which Sam brought about… silence reigns in the church after I reveal them, not even whispered mumblings about how sudden it is. It is just respectful.

I take a deep breath before climbing the steps slowly to where Sam's coffin is. I shut my eyes before opening them slowly, running my hand along the shiny wood of his coffin before finally looking into it.

He is truly the most perfect thing I have ever seen – unblemished and pure. Death has not changed him at all, physically at least. But underneath the crisp black suit which is _entirely_ not Sam's choice of clothing, it is a haunting sight. Gone is the funny personality, the smiling man who would do anything he could to please me. Gone is the crinkling smile which made him look a preteen. Gone are the sparkling eyes which betrayed everything he tried to hide, the things that made me sure that he never stopped loving me.

He has gone. He has moved on. This is an empty vessel – so where is he? Where is my Sam? I need him and I thought that this would be the chance for me to be able to say goodbye – I thought he would still be here!

I feel my composure slipping, so I press my lips to his ice cold forehead gently, for the show of it, before walking swiftly from the church without another word. I wait until I am in my limo before letting the tears fall swiftly down my cheeks – properly this time, unlike in the church. I let myself go as I wonder where Sam is, whether he is happier without me destroying his life again and again. I wonder if he is with me, here, or whether he is in another world, the afterlife.

I wonder…

His funeral was what you would call a perfect funeral. But there _is_ no such thing as a perfect funeral: you are saying goodbye to someone whom you have loved without condition for such a long time. You have to realise that they are no longer in this world… which I have. I know he is no longer here…

… I only hope he is no longer suffering. Because if he is, then he died for nothing. And I could never live with myself… if I already can.

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><p><strong>Vicky xx<strong>


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